They continue until they stumble out of the forest and onto a dirt road. In the distance, a torch bounces toward them.
“Should we get off the road?” Her hand clutches the blackwood axe handle at her waist.
“No.” With his hand along her lower back, he urges her onward.
As the light grows closer, a heavy draft horse with a uniformed rider emerges from the darkness. There is no need to examine the heraldry to know it is a guard of the Crescent Hold.
He exhales a breath of relief that it is not one of Lavinia’s men.
The rider tugs on his reins as they approach.
Aura flinches despite her cloak and hood concealing her noticeable features.
“Hello there! A bit late to travel, yeah?”
“Apologies, I’m borrowing a few things from you.” Caldertouches the man's leg, freezing him solid. He shoves him off the horse. When he connects with the ground, his figure shatters.
“Would it hurt to ask what you require before freezing people?” She nudges him with a smirk as she collects the torch from the ground.
“Where is the fun in that?” He lifts her into the saddle, teasing her for her earlier comment when she used herseidron him.
Her laugh is infectious. “A real jest! I am proud, Jarl Calder.”
He pauses, buckling their bags to the horse with a smirk twisting across his lips.
I made her laugh.
Despite their situation and the looming threat of Draemonium, the other Jarls, Lavinia, and Sigvid Thordsson, the only peace he finds is with the Princess.
He mounts the horse, maintaining a protective grip on her abdomen as they ride into the night. The light from the torch offers the sole illumination of their path.
They make significant progress under the cover of night, only dodging a pack of wolves.
Just as he worries they have been riding in circles, a decent-sized village emerges within the forest. As they trot towards the stables, he takes mental note of an inn that seems to double as a tavern.
They are fortunate that no one works in the stables at this time of the evening. Considering he murdered a guard for the steed, he is more concerned for the well-being of the horse than actually paying some sod to muck out the stall.
After stabling their mare and shouldering their bags, he secures the wrap over Aura’s copper locks.
“Do not speak to anyone. I will try to get you a room with a bath.”
“That would be magnificent.”
He throws the hood of his cloak over his head as they move through the deserted streets toward the solitary inn with a sign featuring a happily painted goat.
As the inn's door swings shut behind them, they are greeted bywarmth and the strong scent of baking pies. Straight ahead is a winding staircase, while a long counter on the left holds a bulky guestbook. A wide entry on their right reveals a bustling tavern that looks to be standing-room only.
We are in a town a third the size of Kaldrgataness. How are there enough people to party this late at night?
“Welcome to the Curious Goat Inn! Here for the Autumn Festival, yeah?” A middle-aged woman with deep laugh lines appears behind the counter, clutching a long quill.
“Yes, we are.” He dons a strange, light-hearted voice, knowing his more grisly appearance is likely to raise alarms. “Do you have any rooms with washrooms available?” He leans on the counter with an uncharacteristic smile as he nods to Aura.
Bless that young woman, reading the energy of the room. She could not appear more adorable and innocent.
The innkeeper flips open the guestbook, and her finger dances over the page as she flips to the next. “Two rooms for you and your daughter?”
He sighs internally, grinding his poor teeth. “Sure.”
